Sonny MoorexMatt Good Love Story: You Me and the Significant Others
by frerardcrazy12
Summary: Sonny's lost everything. Katherine left him.Now he's in the hospital recovering from attempted suicide and an attack from a man in an alley. He hates himself. He's never felt so alone. And then, out of nowhere he meets Matt. Sonny realizes that, for the first time in his life, he wants something other than Katherine. WARNING:angst, suicide, mental issues, and slash
1. Call Me From The Hospital

"You can't stop me anymore, Katherine." Sonny's voice was as cold and lifeless as he already felt.

"Sonny. Stop. Please, Sonny." But it would be over soon.

In Sonny's mind, he couldn't see the sincerity on Katherine's face. She looked blank. She didn't care. He put the knife back on his arm and slid it across slowly. Tears streamed down his face again.

He hated that Katherine was seeing him cry. But she wouldn't have to see him at all anymore. She didn't want him. She wanted… Adrian.

Of all people, Katherine left him for Adrian. But Sonny knew it was bound to happen. Katherine was beautiful. Sonny was not. Adrian was perfect; everything Katherine said she wanted and said she found in Sonny. She lied.

She was so amazing. Every inch of her was gorgeous- where Sonny was pale she was perfectly tanned, where Sonny had scars Katherine was flawless, where her eyes were icy blue, Sonny's were lifeless and dark. And where Katherine was happy and confident, Sonny was insecure and tormented.

"Sonny," She pleaded, tears streaming out of her blue eyes, mascara smearing and destroying the beautiful fantasy of her face. Without stupid things like makeup and carefully planned words, Katherine wasn't beautiful at all.

But why did Sonny's heart skip beats when she breathed his name one more time?

She was fake. But so was Sonny. Was he complaining about her being such a liar? No. Why was she?

"Please." Sonny cut again, a little deeper, just above the last one. She didn't reach to touch him, instead she stepped back. Disgusted with him, with what Sonny had become. Just like everyone else.

"Go home, Katherine." Sonny choked out through tears. "Leave me alone." He let the knife slip out of his fingers and he moved towards her. She backed away, a mixture of fear and disgust on her pretty face. Sonny screamed at her. "Leave!"

"No! Sonny, you're gonna kill yourself. Stop!"

"No! You can't tell me what to _do _anymore!" He cried out, picking up the knife from the sink's edge and letting it slid onto his skin again. The smell of blood filled the bathroom, and Katherine looked sick.

"You're doing this to yourself!" she cried out, and she turned and Sonny shut his eyes and she was gone. She'd left him.

Once again.

Now he could bleed and cry and scream and die in peace.

He fell asleep on the floor in the hallway, his blue shirt stained black with blood, his face wet with tears, whispering Katherine's name over and over.

He had nightmares.

The next morning he took a shower, scrubbed his arms and put on a black hoodie. He intended on wearing it for the remainder of his pathetic life.

He looked in the mirror, at his stupid hair, at his stupid eyes with the makeup smeared around them, and the eyes full of still more tears.

How stupid.

Sonny sat alone that day in his room, tracing his cuts and scars until his hands were covered in blood, and he got back in the shower to clean himself off again.

He repeated the cycle for four more days, never speaking a word, sobbing himself to sleep and dreaming of a cruel and beautiful tanned face with icy blue eyes.

He tried to eat sometimes. He threw up from the thought of being all alone forever. And even when he didn't, he threw up because he didn't deserve to eat.

Sonny was bulimic as long as he could remember. Maybe that was one of the reasons Katherine had started to grow apart from him. Since she found out, things weren't the same. She didn't smile as much. She

Would he die from not eating? No. But would he die from this eating disorder? Probably.

After a week of cutting and binging and nightmares and crying his eyes out, Sonny decided to take a walk. The cool air felt good against his cuts, and halfway down the block he realized he was wearing only an old band T-shirt, no hoodie.

He didn't care.

He walked until his feet hurt, and then kept going. His eyes were dry this time, and he didn't feel like throwing up the food he'd last ate. Was he better? He didn't know.

He walked for at least an hour and a half, and then he walked back. It was dark by the time he started to turn around and head for home, and at a point he realized what a bad idea it was being out after dark in such a bad neighborhood.

Then, he heard it. The unmistakable sound of gunshots.

Sonny turned to face the direction of the sound. There was a man, blood pouring out of his chest, turning the ground black and purple in the moonlight, laying on the pavement about fifty or so feet back.

"Run!" The man cried out, giving Sonny away, and the man's attacker came out from the corner of the building.

He was clearly bigger than Sonny in every way: Sonny was sort of tall but very thin, thanks to being such an insecure, bulimic idiot. And he had no muscle in any way.

The man's face was hidden in the shadows, and his hood was over his head, but Sonny saw the glint of the metal of the gun in his hand. The man headed straight for Sonny.

It took Sonny a moment to realize what was actually happening as the man raised the gun and pointed it at him. Then, Sonny turned and ran. He turned the first corner he saw and hid there in the darkness, struggling to breathe.

He felt himself involuntarily whisper something, and was horrified to realize it was a plead for Katherine. _Stop, Sonny. _He told himself. _She was never there for you. She was never even there to begin with. _

He heard the footsteps coming closer, and then they stopped. Sonny cursed in his head.

This was it.

The man turned and looked right at him, his hood falling to expose his face. Some Mexican gang member, Sonny was sure, with a nasty scar up one side of his face and a shaved head covered in tattoos in Spanish.

The ugly man grinned at Sonny and took a step closer.

"You, _feo Niño_… I am going to enjoy this." Sonny tried hard not to remember what little Spanish he knew. _You, ugly boy… _Sonny squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to imagine what a bullet felt like, praying it would be over quickly.

"No. I won't make it that easy," The man said, dropping his gun to the ground. He instead pulled out a switchblade.

Sonny whimpered, pressing his back against the brick wall of the alley and looking around desperately for an escape. No one would even hear him scream. These things happened every night in this part of town.

Who would remember Sonny Moore? Not Katherine. He was certain of it. She wouldn't remember until she saw his ugly face on the news above the title 'dead boy found'.

The first thing Sonny felt was the knife against his throat. He choked back a scream. He wouldn't give this guy the satisfaction of hearing him scream or cry. Sonny was stronger than that.

He'd already cried until he was on voice arrest, anyways.

"Not gonna cry for help, _feo Niño?" _Sonny squeezed his eyes shut and bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He cried out quietly when the guy dragged the blade across his neck. It stung, but the feeling of a blade was all too familiar to Sonny.

The man must've cut his throat at least six or seven times, deeper each time, before lowering the knife. Sonny felt his own blood soak his T-shirt, but he didn't make a sound. His vision blurred as he opened his eyes. How much blood was leaving him now?  
Did he even have enough to begin with?  
Then, suddenly, the man dropped the knife, letting it clatter on the bloody pavement, and he turned, grabbing his gun from the ground, and ran.

Ran from Sonny, leaving him there alone. To bleed out.

Sonny attempted to take a step forward, but collapsed to the ground in his own blood. He curled up on the pavement and shut his eyes, feeling the burning of his own blood leaving him.

He knew he was dying. He didn't care.

He was already dead.

Sonny had died the second Katherine left him.

He woke up in the hospital bed, and the first thing he felt was relief. His skin was cool all over, and when he opened his eyes he saw the white, sterile room and heard the sounds of machines beeping.

His wrists and neck were bandaged, and for once none of his cuts hurt.

It was… pure relief.

After all this time of physical pain to mask the emotional, now he wasn't struggling to hold back tears from actual pain. The dark, heavy feeling of depression and angst wasn't there at the moment, and Sonny tried hard to push the thought from his mind.

As he pulled himself to sit up slightly, he didn't once think of Katherine, or her beautiful and cruel face, or her soft, pretty, lying mouth.

The nurse came in. She was an exceptionally gorgeous young woman, with dark reddish brown hair falling just above her shoulders and bright blue eyes and perfect skin. Sonny looked at her for a long time, but felt nothing.

His heart didn't skip a beat when he noticed that her figure was completely perfect in the tight white nurse's dress, and he could breathe evenly when she asked him in her soft, sweet voice if he needed anything.

And any time, _any time _Sonny had ever seen such a beautiful girl, he'd had _some kind _of reaction, at least a little bit of nervousness, but not this time. In his mind, it registered that she was gorgeous, but also he didn't even care.

Because there was someone else he had noticed just outside of the glass dividing his room from the hallway.

Standing there, looking really horribly upset, was a tall, thin boy with dark brown hair and bright greenish eyes, talking to a doctor and looking more horrified by the second.

But that wasn't what had caught Sonny's eye.

This boy… whoever he was… he was _completely gorgeous. _His pale face was the most unreal and beautiful thing Sonny could ever remember seeing, and at that point he remembered Katherine.

But he couldn't bring himself to compare her to this beautiful boy because, well, he could just _tell _that Katherine's fake, eyeliner and mascara and hairspray beauty wouldn't even compare to this boy. Sonny's heart stopped, and he couldn't breathe for a moment.

_Ugly boy, _he told himself. Why would that guy even _speak _to you?  
And what the hell are you doing, Sonny? What the hell are you _thinking? _You're in love with Em. You always will be, Sonny.

And why would you even _think _about this boy like that?

The idea of being gay had never once occurred to Sonny. Maybe because… well, because he just wasn't. Or maybe because he'd been consumed with Katherine for as long as he could remember.

He did, though, remember a few times when he wondered if he even wanted her, but then he knew he was nothing without her. Why would you leave the one thing that made anyone think of you?  
He was always 'Katherine's boyfriend'. Or even just 'Kat's friend.'

And now, now that he had been left to die by the one thing that kept him alive… what was he without her? Gay? Alone, no matter what else he turned out to be. All alone.

Suddenly, the boy turned and looked right at Sonny, and Sonny couldn't look away. They just stared at each other, and the other boy suddenly turned pale. He looked confused and then, like he himself didn't know why, fascinated with Sonny. Finally, Sonny looked down and when he looked back up, the boy was still staring at him with a mix of confusion and dire need.

Sonny shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

He must've _actually _fallen asleep, because when he woke up his room was dark and no one was there. The haunting feeling of the boy's bluish green eyes on him remained. Sonny pulled himself out of the hospital bed. He hated hospitals.

More than that, he hated the stupid hospital clothes.

Sonny crawled back into the warm bed and fell asleep to the monotones of the machines again. When he woke up, he tried speaking.

"Hi." He told the pretty nurse. Her face lit up.

"Hi, Sonny." She smiled at him. He didn't smile back; he wasn't really ready for anything like that yet. "Feeling okay?"

"Sort of." His own voice sounded foreign. How many days had it been since he'd just spoken? Not screamed or cried or whispered, but actually _talked_?

"Um… okay, here's what you should know. I'm not supposed to tell you this, Sonny, so listen carefully." The pretty woman leaned closer to Sonny, and he was impressed with the way that she wasn't even scared when her arm touched his. She wasn't horrified or disgusted with Sonny.

"You've been here two weeks already. But you're getting better. You literally slept for a week and a half straight, and you woke up, and then you fell asleep for a few more days. But now you're awake, and your vitals look better than ever." She flashed a quick smile. "Also, you haven't had any visitors, but your aunt dropped off some clothes for you, and if you want them now you can have them."

"My… clothes?" Sonny asked slowly.

"Yes. A T-shirt, jeans and a hoodie, I think."

"What aunt?"

"Caroline Stones."

"Oh." He saw his aunt Caroline once a year, maybe, but she was the only family left to actually care about him. His parents were currently in Africa, or maybe Europe. He couldn't keep track, and they didn't care enough to send him letters or postcards. He was their loser kid.

They named him Sonny; if only they _knew _how ironic the name would be.

"Do you want the clothes?"

"Please." The nurse smiled one more time, and then walked out of the room. A minute later she came back with some clothes folded neatly in her hands. She gave them to Sonny, pointed him to the bathroom in the corner of the room and then left.

Sonny had never been so happy to have his own stupid clothes.

He slowly got out of the bed, pulling out the IV with his eyes squeezed shut and made his way to the little bathroom.

He flipped on the fluorescent lights and shut the door. He looked at himself in the mirror for a long time before doing anything.

Then, he washed his face twice with freezing cold water and ran his wet hands through his dirty black hair. The red dyed bits were faded out and the hair that was meant to go in his eyes was a little too long.

Of course, he doubted he'd be allowed scissors. Who would trust him with sharp things now? He glanced down at his bandaged arms. He laughed.

Then, he dried off his hands and changed into the grayish jeans his aunt had brought him. He hated them, honestly, but they felt better than the hospital gown. A thousand times better.

The T-shirt was just black, which was good. You can't see blood on a black T-shirt, no matter how hard you try. Sonny knew that better than anyone.

And the hoodie was gray, which was good enough since Sonny was freezing to death in the cold, sterile room. He shook out his hair and ran his fingers through it a couple more times before shutting off the light and leaving the bathroom. He felt a thousand times better.

But still, not much could help the gnawing, aching feeling in the center of his chest.

As he walked back to sit on the edge of his own hospital bed, he saw someone familiar through the window.

The greenish eyed boy.

Sonny stopped in his tracks and the boy's eyes met his. The other boy offered up a small, yet somehow sad, half smile, and Sonny's heart was racing too fast for him to smile back or even move. The boy just walked by, letting his hair hide his eyes as he walked out of view of the window to Sonny's room.

Sonny reminded himself; _I'm a patient here. _

_Get in the hospital bed, Sonny. Act sick... Do a better job. Convince everyone. Why? You have to. You need to get better. And stop looking at that guy. It's weird; stop having your little crush on him. _

But Sonny felt like it was already too late; he didn't know how to act when he saw the strange, pale boy outside of his hospital room. He felt like they were in separate worlds. Would the glass divide them forever?

And what if, when the glass finally shattered, the boy _wasn't _as perfect and beautiful as he appeared? Sonny didn't think it would matter either way.

It was a fantasy, and that boy was here as a visitor, not a pathetic, wrist-cutting patient. He wouldn't want anything to do with Sonny, even if he knew he existed. Surely the boy was only looking around, not taking that extra time to look at Sonny.

If only Sonny _knew. _

He curled up underneath the thin covers, in his jeans and his hoodie, and fell asleep one more time. This time he had tortured dreams. He'd been expecting these nightmares to make a reappearance.

Katherine dreams, of course. He woke up after a few hours, realizing that her beautiful face would haunt him until finally, _finally _someone put him out of his pathetic misery.

He called the nurse in, and she re-bandaged his arms and his neck for him. For the first time since making the cuts, Sonny got to see his own arms.

They were horrible. Some were still scabs, others were pink little half healed scars, and a few were more red. Sonny winced and drew a sharp breath as the slashes were exposed to the cool air. After a minute, it actually felt good.

Sonny's once pale, smooth wrists would be like this forever. But Sonny didn't think forever would turn out to be a very long time after all.

Sonny felt better with them all bandaged up and hidden, though. He thanked the nurse three times, but she shrugged it off.

Despite every inch of him telling him to hate this woman, for some reason he liked her. He almost trusted her, and he never trusted hospital people. Never.

Sonny's aunt brought him a collection of T shirts and old jeans and even two more jackets, but she never once stopped in to visit him.

He got cards from his family members. One from his grandma. She misspelled his name. The letter from his cousin was nice enough, but it seemed someone forgot to remind her that Sonny was a boy, because the letter was full of things like '_you're such a great girl'. _Sonny threw those ones away. He kept a few letters from very old friends, old members of old bands he used to be in, people whose memories of Sonny were happy and good.

The days when Sonny was not only clean and sober and under control, but happy.

He also got one from his parents. It had stamps from different countries on it, but when Sonny opened it, there was not much there but a short note telling Sonny they loved him and that he should get better.

He didn't throw that one away, though. Something about the sincerity of the neat cursive made him set it on the table next to the dying flowers.

Then again, if parents were torn up about their son attempting suicide or being attacked by a maniac, wouldn't they at least _be there? _And if they couldn't, under some horrible circumstances, wouldn't they write in shaky handwriting, full of emotion and paper smeared with tears and sincerity?

Maybe Sonny was hoping for too much.

Sonny stayed inside his room, confined, eating hospital food silently and chatting with the doctor and doing stupid things like crossword puzzles for the next week.

Halfway through, he convinced them to let him take a shower. He was thrown in the sterile white bathroom, a different one than the one in the corner of his own room, and he was told he had ten minutes.

That was enough time to wash his dirty hair and to at least _feel _a little better. And plenty of time to cry his eyes out again.

He didn't cry nearly as hard as he'd thought he would.

He changed into clean clothes and didn't say a word as the doctors led him back into his room. He fell asleep and slept through the night for a change.

The past few nights, he'd woken up everyone screaming and crying in his nightmares. Sonny had apologized endlessly for it, and everyone was sympathetic and forgiving, but somehow Sonny felt like he was bothering everyone.

The half healed cuts healed almost entirely. But they added to his collection of scars. His neck was sort of healing, and he was supposed to get the stitches out in two more weeks. The stitches on the four cuts on his arms would come out in one week.

He was getting better. But no one offered up a day to leave, and no one told him how much longer he'd be staying. It seemed like Sonny Moore was a permanent fixture in the clean white hospital room 211.

He wasn't happy by any stretch, but him and Lisa- the nurse from his first day waking up, and all the other times- would watch old sitcoms together on the hospital TV and sometimes Sonny would smile when Lisa made jokes.

So maybe this was life now.

Living every day just to eat timed meals and take timed showers and sleep the rest of the time that you're trying not to feel like dying is a better option.

Sonny tried not to think about Katherine. Some days, it was easier to think happily about her blonde hair and tan skin and cold eyes. But most of the time, it brought down a horrible feeling of angst. And Sonny still didn't know how to cope with the feeling.

He cried at least once or twice a day. And when he cried, he _cried. _He didn't just sob a little. He cried his eyes out. He cried himself to sleep.

He had nothing better to do but drive himself insane with thoughts of Katherine and how he'll never be good enough for her. He'd remind himself how ugly and stupid and fat he was.

And then he'd drown in the thought of her cold blue eyes and her perfect, sterile beauty.

He was on bulimia watch constantly, though. So whether he wanted to or not, he was eating. He had two options, according to the doctors; Sonny could eat his food, or he could have his food put into his IV, which was apparently extremely unpleasant.

Sonny ate most of the time, and then the few days he slept through or was too messed up and depressed and whatever else, they would put him on the IV. It hurt his whole arm.

But if it was one of his worse days, he wanted the pain of it. Anything to help him deal with his own emotions.

After another five days, Sonny was allowed to shower every day and get up and walk around if he wanted to. He wasn't on the IV at all anymore, and he was on anti-depressants and pain killers. Sonny was happier, whether it was the drugs or his increased freedom.

He had his old, beat up sneakers now and he walked all around the hospital in them, sometimes with his hoodie over his head and his hands in his pockets.

To most people, he wasn't even a patient. He looked just like a visitor. The thought almost made him smile.

He pushed Katherine to the back of his mind on those days that he walked around the hospital, because he was in search of the weird green eyed boy.

Sonny was almost determined to say something to him. It didn't matter; Sonny was just fascinated, not interested in any way.

How could he be interested in anything but Katherine?

She was all he'd ever wanted, all he'd ever had, and all he ever _would have. _There was nothing and no one but Katherine. People would tell Sonny to move on. Which, he had. He'd moved on. But he'd never be able to love again, not after everything that had happened.

And maybe somehow, someday he could find a way to be happy and still accept the fact that Katherine is the only person he could ever love.

But Sonny wasn't sure he was capable of love at all anymore. Not even if Katherine came back. He was too damaged. Sonny Moore was a lost cause.

He ran flat into someone. An automatic apology tumbled out of Sonny's mouth as he looked up to see who he'd run into.

The boy.

And _oh my God, _he was even more gorgeous without the glass dividing them. Sonny hated himself more for admitting it, but his heart was skipping beats again.

"Sorry!" The boy said. And his voice wasn't magical or anything, but it was sort of soft and not surprising coming from that pretty mouth. "I'm Matt." The boy said awkwardly.

"I'm Sonny." Sonny breathed, his own name sounding weird and foreign.

"You're a patient."

"Yeah." Sonny looked down at his shoes, feeling awkward and ashamed. He noticed that Matt was wearing a band t shirt. He knew the band. If it had been normal circumstances, Sonny would've talked with Matt about his shirt, about the band.

They could've been friends. Under completely boring, average circumstances.

But not in this horrible, sterile, white hospital. Not while Sonny was a hopeless, depressed patient and Matt was a normal visitor to someone else.

"For what?" Matt asked. Sonny was silent. "I'm sorry… that was stupid of me. It's none of my business. I just…"

"It's okay. It's sort of… it's a long story."

"Oh. Um…"

"Maybe some other time." Sonny said after an awkward silence. Everything about this exchange was awkward.

It was obvious that the two were both trying hard not to look at each other. Sonny turned to leave.

"Wait, Sonny-" Sonny's breath caught in his throat as Matt said his name. And it was absolutely… perfect, in Sonny's mind.

Then, as he turned back to look at Matt, all he could think about was Katherine.

_You were never good enough for her, and you never will be. You're not good enough for anyone. You're ugly, Sonny. You're stupid and fat and ugly and Katherine deserves better. Everyone deserves better. _

_Matt deserves to speak to someone better. _

"I'm sorry I- I have to go." Sonny's voice cracked, and he choked back tears as he ran down the hall and back to his room. He shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. He cried in the darkness.

Couldn't Katherine ever just let him go? It felt like she still had her skinny, white long finger nailed hands around his throat. Sonny couldn't breathe, couldn't speak or scream.

And then came dreams of Adrian.

What was so much better than Sonny? Adrian, of course. He was like a doll; rehearsed, flawless, cool. Sonny was a mess, even on his best days, and he was a nervous wreck. He wasn't social, but he was full of good things to say. He just never got the chance to say them.

Adrian made those chances for himself. He made himself great. How could Sonny compare to such a perfect human being?

Of course, Katherine knew that. At first, she told Sonny how she'd never ever leave him. She promised. She apparently lied.

More than once.

And then, Adrian became a permanent fixture in their lives, and Katherine didn't go a day without speaking to him or seeing him.

And then there were the hours she'd be gone, and claim she was at dance rehearsal, or art class or some other place that she only went when it benefitted her in other ways.

Sonny knew all along that Katherine was cheating.

She'd come back, and she'd refuse to touch Sonny, refuse to hug him or barely even speak to him. Maybe Katherine was just a whore all along.

But what a beautiful, crafty, clever whore she was.

She wasn't careful or discreet about her ongoing adventures with Adrian, either. She'd come home, sometimes wearing Adrian's over sized football T-shirt, with her hair a hot mess and her lipstick gone. And she'd mention how good it felt to have such good friends.

Sonny was sure it felt great.

And then, there was the fight. Sonny asked about Adrian. Katherine was entirely too defensive. She'd stood there, in her full glory and beauty and pride, and slapped Sonny across the face.

Sonny distinctly remembered the pain of it, and then the scratches her fingernails had left on his skin. And he remembered the week after, hiding it with his hair or with makeup.

But still, Katherine apologized, and then all seemed good again. She snuck out late at night to go and hook up with Adrian.

Sonny pretended to sleep.

And then finally, it broke Sonny down, seeing them act like a couple in public while behind closed doors Katherine promised nothing was happening, that she loved Sonny more than ever.

It seemed like she'd finally found what she wanted; a tall, built, stupid but undeniably clever jock. She used to say she wanted an art boy like Sonny, the singer, the guitar player, the artist, the writer. But clearly, none of it mattered to Katherine.

None of Sonny's traits could apparently compare to whatever the jock could do under the sheets. Katherine never slept with Sonny. He never wanted to. Maybe she did, but she never made it clear. And clearly, she was getting those things from somewhere else.

At a point, Katherine was gone for two straight days and Sonny left the apartment.

There was no point waiting around for her. She'd come back and then it would be her turn to wait up on Sonny.

Sonny met up with an old friend from his last band, and they talked and had a good time for a while. And then things turned. Sonny and Travis ended up drinking way too much. Sonny didn't mind; he could drink his own weight in alcohol.

He wasn't even of legal drinking age- Sonny was only nineteen, but Travis had just turned twenty one and didn't mind sharing.

Then Travis had drugs.

Sonny wasn't even sure what kind of drugs, but all he knew was that the overwhelming weight of depression and anger was hanging over his head and Travis promised to make it go away.

And then he had bright blue pills in his palm, and Travis was smiling and Sonny wanted the feelings of it all to go away.

Sonny took two of the pills, and that was the last thing he remembered.

When he woke up in the backseat of Travis's car, he had no memory of the last day. Travis told him he was an absolutely boring drugee, and that he'd slept through the majority of the pills' effects.

Sonny went home, still tired and somewhat disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened.

When he walked into the apartment, what he saw didn't shock him, but just made the sick feeling in his stomach reappear.

Katherine- the beautiful, sweet, always charming and always flawless Katherine- and Adrian, together on the couch.

What more could Sonny expect?

The house key slipped out of his hand and made a loud sound on the floor. Katherine pulled herself away from Adrian, and she'd never looked so much like what she truly was, in her lacy underwear with her blonde hair messed up.

Katherine started to say something, but Sonny shook his head.

_She's a whore. _Sonny thought to himself, and for some reason the thought wasn't new. He already knew it. But why did he feel so much like crying? Looking at the perfect couple, caught in the act, neither looking _nearly _sorry enough to please Sonny, he felt like bursting into tears.

He left the key to the apartment on the floor, and he slammed the door when he left. He ran down the flight of stairs, almost slipping twice, tears blinding his vision.

How _stupid _he must've looked, standing there, pale and ugly and weird, looking at that couple from the story books.

Sonny had no one to call, and nowhere else to go. He just roughly turned the key in the ignition and started driving.

Nineteen years old, and as good as dead from that point on.

He thought of calling someone. But who? Who would even care? He called Travis, on a second thought.

"Aw, dude." Travis's slow voice sounded slightly sympathetic on the other line. Mostly he just sounded stoned. "But she was always a whore, man."

"Where are you?" Sonny ignored Travis.

"I don't even know, man." Travis laughed heavily on the other end. "I don't know. But it's pretty cool."

"Never mind." Sonny choked out, hanging up the phone and throwing it into the passenger's seat. He haphazardly wiped his eyes on his sleeve and kept driving.

When he glanced over at his phone laying in the seat, he saw something blue. He reached over.

The pills.

There were two more right there. How? Sonny didn't know, and didn't care. He thought hard about taking them, and he kept them in his palm for at least half an hour. Then, he tossed them out the window.

Sonny wanted to get far away. He remembered driving up the pass and sitting in his car for at least a day and crying his eyes out.

And then a week later, after drinking himself half to death and almost getting seriously hurt in three separate car/motor vehicle/alcohol related incidents, he got his act together. As best as he could. But for the first time, Sonny was _trying. _

Katherine moved out. Sonny went back to the apartment and was left to wallow in the memories and overwhelming scent of cheap perfume that she'd left behind.

He'd never felt more alone.

Then, a week later, she'd come back to the now trashed, cold apartment.

And… well, Sonny had lost it by then.

Sonny shook himself out of the memory, wiping his eyes in the sterile darkness of his hospital room. He heard a knock on his door. He shook his hair into his eyes to hide his tears and stood up. He opened the door slightly, and was shocked by who stood there.

"Matt?"

"Are you alright? I mean, I know I had no right to follow you and everything, but you seemed upset and I thought it was my fault…" The look of concern on Matt's gorgeous face made Sonny melt. He leaned against the door and sighed, looking down.

"Um… yeah."

"You sure? You've been crying." Matt said softly.

"No."

"Sonny." Matt whispered. He looked up.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna talk about it?"

"You don't know me."

"No. But since I saw you that first day in your room I can't stop thinking about you." Matt admitted. Sonny's heart stopped.

"What?" His blood ran cold as Matt reached up to lightly brush Sonny's fingers where they gripped the edge of the door tightly. Sonny flushed and moved his hand.

"Sonny. I know you're going through a lot. I can see that. But I just… I want to help."

"You don't know me." Sonny whispered, but he didn't have as much conviction as the first time. Matt's fingers were brushing against Sonny's again as he leaned close to whisper in Sonny's ear.

"I'm sorry, Sonny."

"Please… just-" Sonny struggled to breathe. He stepped back into the doorway, away from Matt, and shivered at the idea that Matt wanted to be close to him. "Just go." Sonny breathed. He held his palm on the door to shut it.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay. I… I'll see you later, okay?" Sonny whispered. Matt nodded once.

Sonny shut the door and kicked off his beat up sneakers. He shut his eyes and imagined the way Matt's cold hands felt. Katherine crept into his mind again. Her hands were always hot, urgent. Matt's were ice cold and soft and gentle.

Sonny curled up underneath the white sheets and tried to get warm. But his hand, where Matt had touched him twice, remained cold.

The next morning, Sonny got up and out of his bed before the nurse ever even came in.

It was four am.

He instantly regretted leaving the room: right as he stepped out and turned to the left, he saw Matt, sitting in the waiting area and staring at the wall with a look of angst.

Matt looked up at Sonny, but didn't fake a smile.

"Hi."  
"Hi." Sonny replied, and he was embarrassed to realize that he already couldn't breathe in the presence of Matt.

"Come sit down, Sonny." Matt sighed. Sonny hesitantly sat next to him. Matt sighed again, and before Sonny could ask, he said, "She's dying."

"What?"

"My sister. She's been in the hospital for a month. She's dying, Sonny."

"Oh my God, I… I'm so sorry… I…" Sonny wanted to show his sympathy as much as he felt it, but he couldn't find the words.  
"She was attacked by a gang member with a knife. She was stabbed. _Twice. _Who stabs a helpless teenage girl? Not once but _twice. _Who, Sonny? Who does that?"

"The same guy who attacked me." Sonny gasped.

"What?" Sonny explained that he was attacked and cut. Seven times. Matt apologized. Sonny told him it was okay. But of course it wasn't.

Matt told Sonny how much he loved his little sister Sam. She was only sixteen.

Matt was twenty now.

How convenient for Sonny, right? Sonny couldn't help but think of how perfect Matt was, taller and prettier and cooler than Sonny. But still… so much to say to each other.

Matt was clearly frustrated and angry. So was Sonny. They sat and talked about it for a long time. Sonny felt better. So did Matt.

Sonny told him the truth. The whole truth. Matt didn't judge him, even when Sonny showed Matt his arms. Without the bandages.

Then they sat in silence, no longer strangers, but still not knowing each other long enough to be much else.

After a while, Matt leaned close to Sonny and whispered to him.

"Come with me, Sonny." Matt breathed. Sonny's heart skipped several beats and he struggled to keep his breathing under control.

_Katherine. _Sonny thought, as Matt's hand brushed his knee. Sonny shook the thought of her away as Matt's greenish blue eyes locked with his.

Sonny bit his lip and Matt reached for his hand.

"Sonny," Matt soothed when Sonny flinched away. "I'm not going to hurt you." _Katherine, _Sonny reminded himself as he let Matt slip his hand into his. Sonny shut his eyes for a second and wished her away.

Matt stood and pulled Sonny up with him. Sonny tried hard to stop thinking.

"Where?" Sonny asked quietly. Matt hushed him and walked into one of the dark offices around the waiting room.

"Sonny." Matt said softly as Sonny shut the door behind them. The darkness wasn't pitch black, but Sonny wasn't sure where the light came from, but it illuminated the room just enough.

Sonny's hands were somehow on Matt's shoulders, and Matt was leaning down to place a soft kiss on Sonny's cheek. Sonny naturally shied away, but Matt told him it was okay and he stopped panicking.

"Matt… please…" Sonny breathed. Matt placed gentle kisses on Sonny's neck. Sonny forced himself to shut his eyes. "_Make me forget her._"  
And then Sonny grabbed Matt's face in his hands and kissed him. Matt was surprised. He hadn't been sure that Sonny was interested in guys at all before. And now, he guessed, it didn't really matter.

It didn't matter to either of them if they even thought about boys, or why they were even doing it, or that they'd never done this before. It only mattered that they both needed to forget. They were desperate.

Matt pressed himself closer to Sonny, opened his mouth against Sonny's and twisted his fingers in his longish black hair. He heard Sonny moan, and pushed him against the wall, holding him there with his hips.

Matt remembered the way Sonny had looked at him the first time he ever saw him. Scared, confused, maybe nervous. But those big brown eyes had caught Matt's attention way back then, and now Sonny was all his for the taking.

Matt had never wanted anyone so badly. He didn't know what to do and he felt like he couldn't control himself. He slid his hand up the back of Sonny's shirt and felt Sonny get frantic.

"Sh." He told Sonny, and after a second Sonny turned and pushed Matt up against the wall, running his hands down Matt's sides. Matt had never been so affected by someone's touch before. Matt breathed his name into Sonny's ear and kissed him again.

Sonny tried to push Katherine out of his mind and kissed Matt again, different, more dirty. He pushed Matt back, the two of them stumbling into a desk and knocking some sort of book to the ground.

Matt gasped and struggled to keep up with Sonny. Sonny shoved his hand up Matt's shirt and at first Matt was confused and then a little hesitant. Then Sonny started to pull up Matt's shirt, and Matt grabbed his wrist lightly.

"Stop," Matt breathed against Sonny's mouth. "You can't…" He couldn't catch his breath, no matter how hard he tried. He placed his palm on Sonny's chest to keep him away. "Just… stop."

"Oh my God." Sonny said. His voice seemed loud, because the loudest sound Matt had heard for at least five minutes was when they'd accidentally knocked the book off of the desk.

Sonny looked horrified, and he pushed Matt's hand away, covering his own mouth, and stepped back.

He bumped into the bookshelf again, and a book clattered to the floor. Sonny's breathing was heavy but at the same time he couldn't get enough air.

"Sonny…" Matt struggled to speak, in shock at what had actually happened. He smoothed the front of his T shirt, but it made no difference; they both knew where Sonny's hands had already been. Matt felt violated.

Sonny was disgusted with himself.

"Oh my _God, _Matt." Sonny repeated, and he put his hands over his face, saying it a few more times, sounding more choked up every time.

"Sonny, please just… it's… okay…"

"Oh… my… God." Sonny said again, shaking his head. His black hair fell into his pale face, but Matt could see that he was crying.

"Don't cry, Sonny." Matt soothed, reaching out for him, but then pulling away. He didn't know what to do. It was his fault.

"She used to tell me that. She used to ask me softly, nicely not to cry. She used to _beg me _to stop." Sonny whispered, sobbing but still saying everything clearly.

"Sonny. Please just… it's okay…" Matt felt horrible.

"I swore. I would _never _love anyone ever again. Matt. I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"I can't _do this _with you." Sonny tried to express how he felt. But the hurt registered on Matt's gorgeous face and Sonny realized what it sounded like. "No, I-"

"I get it. You don't want to."

"Matt." Sonny sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking at the older, gorgeous boy in front of him.

"I understand. I'm not good enough to hook up with in a hospital office. Of course." Matt was frustrated and annoyed. He should've seen it coming. It was his fault, anyways. This poor boy was hung up on a beautiful girl who'd torn his heart out and eaten it alive.

Why would a random, sad boy mean anything to Sonny? And a boy, at that. Sonny probably wasn't even gay. Matt felt like an idiot and a jerk.  
"I'm sorry, Sonny. I didn't really give you an option… I just… did it. I'm so sorry."

"I kissed you, Matt. It's… my fault." Sonny whispered back.

"Sonny. Did you… want to?"  
"Do this?"

"Yes."  
"I followed you, didn't I? If I didn't want you, I wouldn't have locked myself in a dark room with you. I wouldn't have… done that." Sonny told him.

"Sonny… please. If I do something that's not okay, just tell me to stop."

"It's okay, Matt. I'm fine. It's just… I… Katherine."

"I know." Matt whispered. It didn't need to be said.

Katherine would _always _be on Sonny's mind. She would always get between them. As long as Sonny thought she owned him.


	2. Whisper Sweet Nothings

Sonny was alone again. Isn't this how Sonny knew it would always end up?

Matt's sister was dead. Sonny knew it was his fault. Maybe if he hadn't gone along with Matt in the office, then Matt could've been there for her when the monitor went flat, when she took her last breath.

Sam was dead.

Sonny hadn't seen Matt since Matt had placed one last soft kiss on his mouth and left him in the dark. Sonny went back to his room, alone, feeling strangely out of place. He passed out.

Hours later, he woke up to the news of a young girl's death, and the mourning of the loss was hanging heavy over the hospital and its staff. The nurse refused to tell him. Sonny begged her, and finally she let it slip.

"Samantha Good is dead."

"What?"

"Oh my God… I'm not supposed to… you're mentally unstable…" She covered her mouth and left Sonny's room, mumbling to herself about Sonny's mental state.

Why did the name sound so familiar to him?

And then it hit sonny: Matt's name was Matt Good. His sister was Sam.

_Oh my God. Sam's dead. _

Sonny pulled himself out of his bed, frantic, looking around for someone to help him find Matt. He _needed _to see Matt, to apologize, to tell him how he knew how it felt and to promise him it would be okay.

But the nurse and the doctor came back in, and Sonny could see the needle glinting in the fluorescent lighting, and then he felt the sting on his arm. Before he knew what had happened, he was out again. Even then, in a drug-induced sleep, Sonny had nightmares.

"I need to see Matt." Sonny repeated for the thousandth time. The nurse shook her head, messing with some machine to Sonny's left. "I need to see Matt," Sonny said, more urgently this time.

"Sonny. You know you can't. You can't leave your room anymore. You broke the conduct. I _told you _not to do it. I warned you to keep away from Matt. He takes what he wants, and it's obvious he took it from you."

"What?" Sonny broke his repetition record of '_I need to see Matt.' _

"I already know what happened, Sonny. And it's going to be okay. You might feel somewhat _attached _but trust me when I tell you that Matt doesn't need to see you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Language, Sonny." She scolded. "Matt's coping with his sister's death perfectly fine. He doesn't want to see you, Sonny."

"You don't know that. You're a liar. You know, I thought I liked you but you're a liar. You're just another liar." Sonny suddenly missed his old nurse, Lisa. He wished he wouldn't have left the room without consent now. He almost wished he would've just let his fantasies stay in his head.

"Sonny! Please, if you don't sit still, then I'll just call in the doctor. And you _really _don't react well with the drugs we have to give you, so please just be quiet for one second and we won't have to do that again."

"Tell me where he is. You don't… you don't _understand. I need to see Matt." _Sonny pleaded. He wanted to shut his eyes, to shut out this sterile, white, ugly world.

But every time he closed his eyes, he could _feel _Matt's hands. And Sonny wasn't sure if he could cope with the guilt of it all yet, or accept what he'd done.

"He doesn't want to see you!"

Sonny fell silent.

What more could he say? She'd made it very clear that she'd already spoken with Matt, and he said he _didn't want to see Sonny. _Sonny could easily imagine why. He bit his lip to hold back tears.

He _wouldn't _let these people see him cry.

"Get out." Sonny told her.

The nurse rolled her eyes. She turned, straightened up, and left with a scowl on her pretty face. Sonny cried alone, to the sound of his heart monitor beeping.

He wasn't allowed to leave his room anymore. He wore the hospital clothes again. He was only allowed showers _on watch, _and there was no way in hell Sonny was taking a shower with some creepy guard watching.

In a way meant to sort of _punish _these people for locking him up, far away from the outside world, he unwrapped his bandages and picked at all of his scabs.

This earned him not one but _two _doses of sedative.

He slept for four days. Just when he thought he was feeling better, it seemed like Sonny had a total relapse.

"Sonny?"

"No." Sonny refused to open his eyes.

"Sonny."

"No!" He kept them shut. He didn't want to see another clean, tan, pretty face. Where was the _substance _in this white hell? Where were the _real people? _Sonny knew what hospitals were for. Sick, dying, sad people. And Sonny was one of them.

He wouldn't open his eyes again.

"Sonny, please. Wake up." And then, Sonny realized that the voice was shockingly familiar and sweet. He slowly peeked open his eyes.

"_Matt?" _

"Are you okay?" Sonny opened his eyes. He'd never felt more vulnerable, or more little, as Matt stood up tall next to his hospital bed.

"Are _you _okay? Oh my God… Matt, your sister… I… I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. You should've been there for her. You should've been there with her, Matt. But you were _with me._"

"Sonny. It's not your fault." Matt said. Matt slowly leaned down, and he grabbed Sonny's hand. But then he turned it over, exposing Sonny's bloody, bandaged wrist. Sonny pulled away.

"Please don't." Sonny choked out.

"Sonny… you have to stop doing this to yourself. Please. Don't hurt yourself anymore."

"You don't understand, Matt." Sonny weakly shook his head, pulling his knees up to hug them to his chest. He hated being so small.

_Matt is unreal. _Sonny thought absent-mindedly, looking at his dark hair and pale skin and those curious bluish green eyes. Matt had been crying. Sonny could tell.

It wasn't hard for Sonny to tell these things.

Matt moved closer to Sonny, and bent down so he was level. He looked right at him, and Sonny will never, ever know how Matt managed to look so completely sincere as he said it, but he just told Sonny:

"You're beautiful."

The nurse didn't find Matt in Sonny's room. Matt left long before she ever came.

Sonny knew he wasn't allowed any visitors, and he also knew he was on suicide and bulimia watch again. Sonny just _wished _he was lucky enough to be able to binge and cut as freely as he wanted to. He would just destroy himself all over again.

That day, Sonny was on his best behavior. He actually got his real clothes back. He apologized to his new nurse. He felt more at peace, lying in his pathetic hospital bed as a pathetic patient, now that he had something to look forward to.

Matt had whispered, and the words had never sounded so perfect: "I'll come back later."

Sonny didn't know when later was, or what Matt really meant by that, but he didn't care. He was excited for the first time since coming to the hospital. And some strange part of Sonny was actually _happy. _

Not normal and mindlessly happy, but just a grain of happiness, like a smile tugging at the back of his mouth, and Sonny couldn't have asked for more. But still, he couldn't help but wonder what the nurse meant when talking about Matt.

_He takes what he wants, and it's obvious he took it from you. _Sonny tried to block out his initial thoughts. He didn't want to believe what she was saying. She didn't know Matt, after all. She was lying to scare him.

Wasn't she?

Sonny tried to sleep, but when he shut his eyes, his mind was playing tricks on him. He kept replaying the scenes from the dark office, but they were _different _in Sonny's head now. It was like nothing had happened the way he thought it had.

The dreams were violent and dark now. Sonny squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and for some reason, the Sonny in his head was crying now. And then Matt was forcing kisses on the crying Sonny, and then they were _both_ screaming…

Sonny opened his eyes and jumped out of his bed. The cold tile on his bare feet woke him up all the way, but he couldn't help but think that it was _too real to be a dream. _He touched his throat, feeling like he'd _really _been choked, like hands had really been there just minutes before, tightening their grip until Sonny couldn't breathe.

And his wrist hurt; a burning, unreal pain. Images flashed in Sonny's head of an imaginary Matt gripping Sonny's wrist and the imaginary Sonny crying.

Sonny shook himself, trying to shake off these false memories, when he heard a gentle knock on his door. He slowly walked over to the door, and opened it just the tiniest bit.

"Hi." Matt stood there, smiling slightly at Sonny.

"Oh. Um… hi."

"Are you going to let me in?" Matt teased. He didn't seem traumatized _at all _and Sonny knew Matt should be. His little sister had died a week ago. Maybe Matt was dealing with the trauma in strange ways. Still, Sonny felt a chill crawl up his spine as he let Matt into his room.

Matt sat next to Sonny on the edge of his bed.

They sat in silence for a second, and then Matt apologized for coming so late. Sonny mumbled his reply, feeling out of place and suddenly insecure in his own reality. As he looked at Matt, he realized that his mind could've _easily _made everything up.

And then it occurred to Sonny; that he wasn't even sure _anything _had happened in the office.

_What if I made it all up? What if Matt never kissed me? _

Sonny tried not to remember his nightmare, and failed: he thought of Matt pushing Sonny back and kissing him while Sonny cried.

Then he thought of what had _really happened, _Sonny kissing Matt first and then Matt kissing him back. But what if _none of it_ ever happened?

Or worse, Sonny thought.

What if it _did_?


	3. Today You Said

"You okay, Sonny?" Matt touched Sonny's hand and he snapped out of his nightmare.

"Matt!" Sonny choked out, gripping his hand and trying, for everything he was worth, not to cry. Matt looked down at their hands together, and he looked really sad suddenly. "They're saying stuff about you, Matt. Horrible stuff… and I…"

"What?" Matt's voice was sharper now. But then he placed his cool hand on Sonny's cheek and Sonny looked up. "Sonny, it's okay." Matt whispered. He sounded strained, though, like his gentle tone took all of his effort.

"I'm having horrible dreams. Matt…what's wrong with me? Why can't I have anything without ruining it?" Sonny struggled to sound normal. He wanted to cry. All he did was cry. These feelings were eating him alive.

"Sonny, you haven't ruined anything." Sonny took a deep breath and let go of Matt's hand. He had to know the truth. He didn't _want _to know, and he was terrified, but he knew he had to.

"Matt… please, just tell me. What _happened _that morning? When no one was awake? What happened?" Matt's hand was still on his cheek, and now Matt was looking at him in confusion. Sonny shivered at his touch, imagining those same cold hands pushing him back, taking him over.

"Are you feeling okay?" Matt looked at him. Sonny noticed that Matt did not answer his question. Images of his nightmares flashed in his head.

"I'm going crazy." Sonny confessed. He looked up at Matt, and was relieved to not see shock or disappointment there. Matt just looked sincere. Maybe sympathetic. Sonny wasn't sure he wanted Matt's sympathy.

"You'll be okay, Sonny." Matt whispered, leaning down to close the distance between them. A sympathy kiss? Maybe Sonny didn't even care if it _was _all pity that Matt felt for him. He just wanted affection, someone to kiss him and tell him he'd be okay.

So why could Sonny taste blood now? He felt dizzy. Sick. This was all making him sick.

Sonny forced his eyes shut, imagining that Matt could only think of him the way he could only think of Matt. But then he saw Katherine's icy blue eyes staring at him with a look of betrayal. He ignored the thought. He couldn't let her stop him. Not anymore.

The nightmares haunted him, but he felt Matt's breath on his mouth and he struggled to fight off the darker thoughts and images.

Matt's lips just barely brushed Sonny's when they heard the sound.

Sonny jerked away from Matt just in time to see the doctors rushing in.

The door burst open, and they all came filing in, holding needles and looking frantic and one had a clipboard, which he proceeded to drop on the tile when he saw Matt. Another nurse picked it up and dusted it off, only for it to be knocked on the ground again.

"How did _he _get in here?" A nurse cried out, covering her mouth and pointing her shaking finger at Matt. Sonny was strangely calm, and he just stood back and observed everything. He noted that the nurses were both extremely pretty, not a flaw on them. Fake. Like dolls.

He also noticed that Matt was being very strange, very defensive, even.

Matt pushed him back and stood in front of Sonny, putting his hands up to try and show the doctors that everything was fine.

There were six doctors. Why? Sonny wasn't putting up much of a fight; he was five two, on bulimia watch, and even if he wasn't, anyone could wrap their whole hand around his skinny arm.

Anyone could snap him in two if they really wanted to.

But it was like they were _scared _of Matt. Why? Matt was taller than Sonny, and was considerably stronger than him, but Matt was skinny. He didn't seem to be physically dangerous to anyone at all. So why were the doctors circling him like he was a wild animal?

One of them grabbed Matt, and he pushed them away, and Sonny screamed.

Sonny couldn't honestly remember the last time he had screamed. But the sound was awful, and raw, like it had been stripped from his soul and poured out from his mouth. He tasted blood. The salty taste had never left his mouth, not for one second. He wasn't hurt.

He felt no blood in his mouth. Just the taste.

He saw the sharp metal of a needle go deep into Matt's arm. Matt didn't make a sound. Sonny's ears could hear static now; like someone had muted the whole scene, and he couldn't hear the nurse scream when Matt tried to grab her.

But he could _see _the fear in their eyes.

"What's going on?" Sonny cried out, pressing my back to the wall, while Matt yelled at him to stay back. He was going limp now. Sonny screamed again, and a nurse came and tried to inject something into his wrist. Sonny fought her off for a second, until another doctor came and helped her hold him down.

Sonny cried out at the needle's sting.

His vision blurred.

Blood. Sonny tasted more blood.

"What's going on?" He repeated drowsily, trying to stand while the nurse screamed at him to stay still.

Matt was being carried out of the room by three of the doctors, and Sonny screamed in horror when he saw Matt's head drop back, limp, his eyes closed.

He looked dead.

_Blood, blood, blood. _Sonny thought, growing sicker and sicker as the taste overwhelmed him.

"Matt!" Sonny screamed. "No! Stop!" He screamed one last time before his vision faded out. His final thought was: _Why were there so many of them for just the two of us? _

It was clear that these people knew something about Matt that Sonny did not know.

The taste never left his mouth.

When Sonny woke up, he felt horrible. He unanimously decided he absolutely _hated _sleeping so much. Normally, Sonny couldn't even sleep through the night. Yet now he could sleep through _days? _The thought of sleeping his fragile life away scared him.

But he knew he very well _could _sleep himself right to death if he wanted to.

The room was dark this time, but there was a nurse reading a magazine sitting across the room. Sonny pretended to sleep, not wanting to talk to the nurse. Not wanting to eat the hospital's food or listen to the hospital's lies or play the hospital game anymore.

And then he remembered what had happened.

The doctors had all been so scared that Matt was there. But why? They had come prepared, with drugs and sedatives to _contain _them. What threat did they pose? And why were they all so careful with keeping Matt away?

Sonny felt like Matt was more than just a visitor to his now-dead sister. Why was Matt still here, then? Why didn't he go home to his normal, happier life? Well, maybe not happier. But still, he shouldn't stay in a hospital for _no reason. _He couldn't; Sonny was pretty sure outside people couldn't just come and live in hospitals.

He suddenly thought it was _weird _that Matt was still hanging around. What wasn't he telling Sonny? Sonny felt like maybe he was in a bad situation now. Maybe that was where the forced kisses and crying lover nightmares came from.

Sonny hadn't stopped to think any of it through. And he would've done it all over again if Matt would've kissed him. He would've come undone all over again, he would've betrayed Katherine one more time.

Sonny knew Katherine wasn't his anymore, but he felt that he was very much hers, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't betraying the girl who'd cheated on him. But he was betraying the girl who'd loved him before then, the one he'd made promises to.

He knew he shouldn't be thinking of Matt. He knew it was wrong in so many different ways. But still, Matt crept into his mind. And Sonny found some sort of momentary solace in dreaming of Matt, even when they were nightmares, horrible things that Sonny knew he shouldn't like to watch.

That was the problem; as much as the nightmares tortured Sonny, he loved it. He loved imagining that Matt _cared _enough to hurt him, even, or that Sonny's life could mean something. After all, for it to be threatened, it had to be something worth it in the first place, right?

The lights flipped on; Sonny could see it behind his closed eyelids. Sonny didn't want to open his eyes, even when he heard someone next to his bed. He was suddenly terrified that it was Matt. But also terrified that it _wasn't. _

"Mr. Moore." Sonny opened his eyes when the voice repeated his name again. He regretted it.

"My name is Sonny." He pulled himself up, annoyed with the doctor standing there. What right did this guy have to wake Sonny up? "Mr. Moore is my _father." _

"Mr. Moore," The doctor said anyways. Sonny rolled his eyes. "I am going to have to ask you a couple questions."

"About what?" Sonny snapped.

"Mr. Moore, please be cooperative." Sonny now felt that this man was doing it just to annoy him. "Now, why was Mr. Good in your room Tuesday night?"

"What day is it?" Sonny asked, ignoring the man's question. Now Sonny wasn't so sure this guy was a doctor. He wore the white coat and all of that, but this guy was _old, _white hair and moustache old. And he was sort of creepy.

"It's Friday, Mr. Moore. Now, please answer."

"Why was Matt in here? That's what you want to know?" Sonny squinted up at the guy.

"Yes." Sonny tried to come up with an answer that would generally piss everyone off, and finally he got it.

"Cause I told him to." Sonny drawled, sounding innocent but at the same time showing his malevolent intent behind the words.

"Why, Sonny?"Sonny rolled his eyes at the man.

"Why do you think?"

"Are you engaging in mis-conduct with Matt Good?" The old man raised one of his white eyebrows. Sonny grew furious.

"What are you talking about?" Sonny was more than annoyed now. This guy had no right to accuse Sonny of _anything. _He'd only kissed Matt. Were they even allowed to punish him? And why did they care so much?

"How many of the codes have you broken, Mr. Moore?" The man sounded more demanding now. It frustrated Sonny. Instead of getting answers he was only getting more questions.

"Don't call me that! And I don't know what codes you're talking about! I'm not even sick anymore! You can't keep me here. My arms are healed. I don't know what you're talking about!" The man looked at Sonny sympathetically.

"He relapsed, it seems." The man told the nurse over his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" Sonny begged. He needed answers. He stared at the blank white wall behind the man.

These white walls were driving him insane.

He looked at it, this same wall he'd spent days staring down, and noticed something _new. _There was a tiny smear on the wall, where the two walls connected in the corner. A little red smear. Blood? Sonny wasn't even scared; just interested.

These white walls reminded him of something. Something he'd seen in a movie maybe, or read about in a book. And the way these nurses and doctors went about everything… it was strange. It wasn't right.

And then it dawned on him.

"Where am I?" Sonny whispered. There was something horribly wrong here.

The careful way these people spoke to him, the comments the nurses sometimes made, the cheap bandages used on his arms. This wasn't right.

Sonny struggled to breathe and he began to panic. He had all of the pieces, it seemed. But he couldn't put it together. What was the whole picture?

"Mr. Moore, do you need to talk to Lisa again?"

"Lisa?" Sonny remembered the nurse. The only one he liked. He hadn't seen her for weeks. He'd forgotten about her. "Yes. Let me talk to Lisa. She's the only _sane _person in this stupid hospital!"

The doctor and the nurse exchanged a strange look then. Sonny was confused. He was so sick of being _confused. _

"There's something else. You're not telling me something."

"Sonny, please. Just relax." The man said. Sonny hesitated, trying to think of some way to trick this guy into giving him the answers that he needed.

"Please, call me Mr. Moore." Sonny smirked at him. "And yes, Matt and I broke a lot of codes. We've been engaging in _mis-conduct _all the time." Sonny bit his lip to hide his smile as the man's face became animated with anger.

"That's it!" The man snapped. He called the nurse over. "Take him to the room." She nodded once. She was a pretty little blonde thing, but entirely too thin for Sonny's taste. He laughed at the thought. Sonny; thin-obsessed, bulimic Sonny, saying someone was _too skinny. _What a joke.

"What are you doing? Don't touch me. I have rights." Sonny snapped as the nurse tried to pull him out of his bed.

But he was still so tired, and so, so cold.

And he was sick of these white walls and these white sheets and these white-dressed cloned people. He was sick of everything being white.

Why not black? It's hard to see blood on black, Sonny thought, glancing at the smear on the wall again.

"You lost your rights the second you checked in here, Mr. Moore." The man told him. Something about his words made Sonny shiver. He stared at the man, a cold, hard, fixated look, and let the nurse pull him out of his bed and walk him towards the door.

The man started to look uncomfortable by the time Sonny was dragged out of the room.

And that was when he _really _looked around the outside of his room.

The hall was weird and narrow, and Sonny didn't remember it looking this way when he'd had his walking around privileges. The rooms were strange, too. He'd never noticed it before, but the doors were heavy metal and white, with square windows towards the top.

He heard the beeping of a machine somewhere in the background, but didn't see any gurneys or any medical supplies. He swore he remembered seeing things like that last time.

_What kind of hospital is this? _

Sonny was too short to look inside the windows in the doors as the nurse led him down the narrow hall. He desperately wanted to look inside, though. He needed to see a patient, someone lying in a bed just like his, someone sick. Even someone dead.

Just reassurance that it was an ordinary place. But there was something undeniably freaky about this hospital, Sonny realized.

"This place could make people go _insane_," Sonny muttered. The pretty little nurse laughed a little bit, and then tried to cover her laughter with a cough. She tightened her grip on Sonny's arm.

And he wasn't sure why, but the comment made the nurse smile all the way down the hall.


	4. Start Aging Slower

Sonny was numb all over.

He glanced at his arms. The cuts were nearly healed. Some of them were pink scars. He traced the lines with his cold fingers. He winced at the sharp pain. They looked nearly healed. But if he leaned a little closer, he could see that they could easily open up again.

How long had he been asleep?

And something was wrong, because he distinctly remembered cutting his left arm _four _times and now he counted five scars. Which ones were old ones from another time? And his chest felt like it was full of water, like maybe he was drowning right there in the fluorescent hallway of the hospital.

He wanted to throw up. This time, he didn't want the vanity or the relief of pain. He felt sick.

"Here's your new room, Sonny." The nurse wasn't even pretty this time. It disappointed Sonny. Her brown eyes were too dark, nearly black. The prettier nurses were usually nicer, anyways, and why couldn't he have some _color _in this place, some blue or green eyes? Why couldn't he have one pretty little thing to torment?

"What?" Sonny blinked, mindlessly. He couldn't wrap his head around anything anymore. He was just so confused.

His eyes were burning from the light. He wanted to shut them, to curl up in a crying ball and sleep again.

"I hate this." Sonny whispered, his eyes full of tears again and he was _so angry _at himself for letting this all happen. He'd never felt this angry before. Ever. Not even when he found out Katherine was the whore that she was, or when he'd found her _with _that idiot guy.

This new feeling didn't even compare.

It was anger, but at the same time it was similar to the feelings of Matt tracing Sonny's scars, it was close to the feelings of isolation and loneliness. Maybe it was just emotion in the rawest, purest form; no specific emotion, just _feelings. _

He looked around at the white room. White walls. Four of them. Nothing else. No, wait, there was a crack in the wall to his right. Sonny frowned at it, as if it might fix itself if he glared at it. How did no one else notice that giant black slash on the wall?

It was so annoying.

And then he remembered he was upset and stopped staring at the wall and sat down in the white chair when the nurse told him to.

He tried hard to make the burning feelings go away. But they stayed, deep in his blood, his bones. And they burned him up from the deepest parts of his insides.

"You will stay here from now on." She told him. Her voice was bland, plain. How did she feel no remorse for leaving Sonny- just nineteen years old, a baby- all alone in a cold dark room?

And as Sonny looked around the room, he realized it was empty. Not because the walls were bare or because the single white chair was the only object in it, but because Matt was gone. Sonny felt empty. He glared up at the nurse hatefully.

What right did _she _have to laugh at Sonny's comments? Why should he be so funny to her, anyways?

Sonny also realized something else.

"What hospital is this?" Sonny asked for the sixth time. He'd been counting. One, two, three, four, five _six. _And not one answer.

"Honey, please sit still."

No more needles, Sonny thought as he watched her tap at the liquid inside the syringe. Please. But he couldn't find the words to protest as she slowly injected the fluid into Sonny's arm.

And God, he was _tired. _And sad. Really, horribly, painfully sad. Maybe he was upset, but then again he was way too sleepy to do anything about it. For once, he didn't even have the energy to cry.

It was so pathetic, Sonny couldn't even believe it. If he was good for anything, it was crying his sorry little eyes out. Now he couldn't' even do _that? _

The nurse heaved him up out of the chair and he shut his eyes. She was a tiny thing. She'd drop Sonny in about five seconds, he was sure of it. He weighed way too much for her.

But he wasn't awake for five more seconds anyways.

"What the hell is this?" Sonny said to no one.

He woke up alone. In a new white room. In a white bed, in white clothes. And somehow, it all seemed brighter and cleaner than before. Like opening new eyes to everything.

No one was there.

Not a nurse. Not even the sound of a beeping machine, keeping his heart beat. Nothing. Silence. Sonny started to choke after ten minutes of staring at the wall and only breathing a couple times. He was going crazy, he was sure of it.

Where was he?

He didn't get out of the bed. His mind was too foggy. He was too cold and still too tired to move.

He didn't have big glass windows to see Matt through anymore. He had a solitary window on his thick white door to his brand new, shiny white room. It was hell in its purest, whitest form, Sonny was sure of it. All he wanted was relief. But he didn't even deserve the sharp beauty of a knife.

He didn't bother talking to himself. Why? He didn't like his own voice enough to sing, either. He tried humming, but then he just wanted to scream the most painful lyrics that he knew, and he _knew _screaming was not allowed in hospitals.

It upset some people.

Unstable, scared, fragile people. Sonny wasn't one of those anymore. He was numb all over and mute and there was a burning anger in his veins that refused to go away. He wasn't one of those people.

Sonny shut his eyes and smiled at the way the dreams had changed again.

Matt was so beautiful. Sonny realized that all this time, he'd been _stalling himself _on stupid, pretty things like Katherine, when the real substance was here all along, locked within these cruel white walls and kept secret behind heavy white doors.

Kept _hidden _and _away _from him in this white hell. For so, so long.

Matt kissed him softly in his head, but somewhere in the middle one of them whispered horrible things, and then there was blood.

Sonny grimaced at all the blood.

He forced himself to stop, to breathe, to make the mixing feelings in his center go away. Now wasn't the time for these feelings.

But the nightmares just went on anyways, sweet things and then horrible things and all of the in between. Sonny could drive himself insane with these dreams.

Matt was a ghost behind Sonny's closed eyes now. That was all he could be.

He squeezed his eyes shut and replayed the final scene, as one of them took dying breaths and the other caused these breaths, but Sonny couldn't decide who was who.

When he opened his eyes, he was unsure of whether or not he'd actually slept. Sonny stayed in his own little room for three days until someone came. Or maybe they'd come when he was in his dream/sleep state. He wasn't entirely sure.

The nights and days had no dividing lines, not anymore, and Sonny grew more desperate and depressed with every passing hour.

His mind drifted back to Katherine sometimes. The memories of her were marred by Matt's cold lips and cold hands now, and he couldn't shut his eyes and just _miss her _anymore. He wasn't sure yet if it was a good or bad thing.

He liked the feeling of Matt's icy cold hands.

But he still wanted the hot, urgent, Katherine. He'd always want her. But maybe now, he wanted something else. Something shiny and new and distinctly _cold _and forbidden.

Something he wasn't allowed to have. And now he would _have it. _

Finally, a nurse came in, closing the door behind her. She was the not-so-pretty dark eyed girl, with the tired face and the less than perfect figure. She wasn't much entertainment for Sonny either way, imperfect or not.

"I need to see Matt." Sonny chirped instantly, pulling himself up in one fast motion to sit on the edge of his bed. He swung his feet, and they seemed unreasonably high off the ground. "I need to see him." He vaguely wondered why the bed was so high.

"No. No visitors. Says so on your papers." Sonny bit his tongue until he tasted blood, thinking carefully about his words. He couldn't mess this up. Then he'd _never _get to see Matt. And he needed Matt. He needed him with every inch of his scarred skin, every fiber of his fragile being.

"I don't give a _damn _about a piece of paper. I need him. I need him." Sonny ground his teeth and looked at her: fake blonde hair in a high ponytail. Sonny decided he hated her, even with his fuzzy mind. Who was she to keep him from Matt?

"No. You don't." The hate burned underneath Sonny's skin. He was shocked at the heat of it, the gritty feeling of the anger sweeping through him. It was physically spreading now.

"I need him." Sonny whined. "Please. Please." Then he narrowed his eyes. Why should he _beg _for these stupid people? So they could lock him up in a new white room?

He asked her one more time where he was. She sighed and leaned down next to him.

"Rangeview Hospital, Sonny." She said it softly, as if she was speaking to a child. Sonny's mind refused to make sense of the letters on her nametag. He needed to know her name. But he couldn't function enough to read a _single word. _

"Rangeview? What kind of name is that?" The anger slowly cooled, as if Matt's freezing hands were soothing it away. Sonny liked that thought. But he didn't like the calm that was sweeping through him. Calm meant weak.

"Sonny, please calm down. Please don't. I don't want to have to move you to another new room. You hurt yourself last time. At this institution we don't-"

"_What?" _Sonny's blood ran ice cold. He couldn't breathe suddenly. His mind was crystal clear now. But it was like the night sky; just a few violent thoughts as stars blinking in there. And he realized what she'd said, and it shined like the sun behind his eyes. "What did you just say?"

The hate. It was there again. Burning. Burning his flesh right off. He swore, if he looked down at his hands now they'd be skeletal, the skin melting into nothing.

"Oh my…" She covered her mouth and stepped back. These people were full of stupid mistakes. Sonny tried to breathe. Failed. He clutched his chest, and he swore he could hear his heartbeat already.

And he was so _mad. _The feelings of it burned just barely hidden under his clean white skin; his uniformly washed, carefully bandaged skin, and the feeling ate at him. It ate him.

And it all came rushing back; no amount of drugs they tried would subdue Sonny from the knowledge of it any longer- he knew. He _knew._

Sonny thought hard, about four blank white walls and every carefully placed sentence of these uniformed people. About the feeling of horribly silent halls, even in the middle of the day, and sometimes the _sounds _he could hear outside of his sealed up room.

They tried to hide it. But Sonny knew. Sonny was too smart for them. He knew.

The things that weren't _right. _The little things that Sonny had never seen in a hospital before. The little things that itched at the back of his mind no matter how many doses they gave him, no matter how many days he slept away.

Everything began to add up, and it framed the question '_Where am I?' _and suddenly Sonny had the answer.

Sonny was in the hospital.

_The mental hospital. _

Sonny woke up again. You know the awful way you feel right after you drag your sorry self out of bed? Well, this feeling was becoming an all-the-time thing for him.

Laying in unfamiliar beds was starting to feel more familiar. Sonny felt like a lonely, abandoned child locked up in the building. He was abandoned in every sense of the word. He pretended not to know the truth for one second. It hurt his head to try and avoid it, though.

"Please," He moaned. He still couldn't shake the awful feeling of the truth as he opened his eyes. The room was dark, but he could tell it was the same room he'd last been awake in. They hadn't moved him, at least.

Mental.

For crazy people.

Sonny laughed out loud and pulled himself up out the bed. He sat on the floor in the center of the room, sorting through all of the evidence he had. Yes- it was obvious to him now. He'd been accidentally locked in some sort of asylum.

But then… what was Matt?

Another crazy person?

No, Sonny decided. He was just like Sonny. He was only accidentally put in here.

"Hello."

Sonny felt the breathing on his cheek and turned to see who was there.

"Matt?" Sonny's voice broke and he threw his arms around the taller boy. He stood up and Matt hugged him back, whispering apologies to Sonny for not telling him sooner.

"I missed you. So much, Matt." Sonny had never been happier to see his bright eyes and dark hair. But he was wearing ordinary clothes. And how was he in Sonny's room? "Don't leave me anymore." Sonny pleaded, ignoring everything in his mind that questioned Matt. Sonny could breathe now. Nothing else mattered.

"I won't leave you." Matt promised, kissing Sonny's cheek and grabbing both of his hands. "You have to promise me something." Just like that, Sonny was under the spell again. He'd do anything, _anything _Matt asked him to.

"Anything." Sonny whispered back eagerly.

"You can't tell these people about me anymore, Sonny. They don't understand us. They're scared. They… they think I hurt you."

"But you didn't. You would never hurt me. Never." Sonny buried his face in Matt's shoulder. Matt was even colder than usual. It didn't bother Sonny as much as it probably should have. He stood there for a while, just holding onto Matt and praying that they could get out together.

"I know. I know," Matt soothed. "But they don't understand. And I don't want to get you in any more trouble than you're already in. So please don't talk about me anymore, and I'll stay with you."

"I promise." Sonny whispered back. "But Matt… do you know what kind of place this is?"

"Yes, Sonny. You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you!" But Matt was just silent as he brushed Sonny's hair out of his eyes and leaned down. He kissed Sonny softly. Too softly.

Sonny hadn't dreamt of soft, clean kisses.

He didn't want that.

Sonny pulled him back down, kissing him again, and Matt moved away.

"You have to be careful now, Sonny. There are some things that… that are dangerous for us." Matt explained. But Sonny didn't understand.

"Matt. I don't care about _danger _anymore. I would rather die than be without you. If you're leaving, then just kill me. Please."

"No, Sonny, I'm not leaving you." He whispered. "Just be careful." Sonny disregarded the warning and attempted to kiss Matt again, for real. Matt kissed back. It wasn't like Sonny's dreams, so Sonny pushed Matt back, trying to change something, trying to turn the situation around.

Maybe then he'd be happy, if he could just show Matt that he loved him.

Matt was too hesitant, and Sonny needed more; closure from the pain of the past two years of his life, closure from the loss they'd both had and a new life. A new way to live.

"Sonny," Matt stopped him.

"Please?" Sonny asked softly.

"We can't. Sonny, you don't understand how _dangerous _this is for you."

"For… me?" Sonny said slowly. Matt sighed. Sonny was upset now- he just wanted all of Matt and all of the danger that came with him.

"Yes. This is dangerous for you." Matt repeated softly. But it wasn't what Sonny wanted to hear; in fact, he refused to listen to it until it was the right words.

"I don't care." Sonny said again, reaching for Matt. He kissed him once before Matt grabbed Sonny's arms and pulled him away. He pushed Sonny to the wall and Sonny hid his smile, excited for whatever came next. _Anything. _

"I can't hurt you. I _won't _hurt you, Sonny." Sonny smirked at the way Matt was getting anxious, nervous. Did he hold that power over Matt, to easily make him uncomfortable?

"I know." Sonny whispered back. Matt leaned closer.

"But you'll end up getting hurt," Matt whispered in Sonny's ear. Sonny shut his eyes and sighed. He was right here; right here for Matt to have. And Matt wasn't _taking him. _

"Hurt me, then, Matt." Sonny whispered. "I _need you." _And in the way Sonny spoke those careful words, it broke Matt's will and Matt pushed Sonny back against the wall and kissed him. Sonny was desperate; for someone, someone to love him and make everything else go away.

This was close enough.

Kissing boys was never what Sonny meant to do in order to forget everything else; but if that's what it took, then he wouldn't back down. For one tiny second, Sonny felt relief from everything. For one tiny second, in Matt's arms, Sonny felt _better_.

Maybe it was naïve, maybe it was wrong, and stupid, and maybe it was signing his own death certificate all over again, but Sonny couldn't help himself anymore. He broke ever single promise he'd ever made to himself.

All just to have a little bit of _feeling _again.

Sonny couldn't be hollow anymore; he _wouldn't _be alone and cold and broken anymore. He couldn't let himself fade away into the white walls of this hell. He couldn't let go that easily.

But he needed something to hold onto. That something was Matt.

"I love you, Matt." Sonny whispered sharply. For a second, Matt froze, uncertain. Could he return the same desperate love for Sonny? But even Sonny didn't wait for a reply, and he didn't ask for one. But the blatant request for it was hanging there in the sterile, clean air between them. If there was any space there at all.

But they _were _the words that Sonny needed to hear, and Matt promised he'd be there for him when Sonny needed someone. Even now?

They were the words that had hurt him over and over again, but somehow Sonny still crawled back to wherever he had started, hands and knees, begging to hear it again. Dragging himself right back to the pathetic, wasted start, sometimes bleeding, asking nicely with a smile to hear it one last time. Sonny would give his dying breath to be loved. He needed that. They were the words that bound him together, the same ones that would tear him apart eventually.

No matter how twisted, no matter how diluted or messed up or fake it really was, Sonny wanted love. No matter the price he would have to pay to have it.

Now Matt could feel it, that every inch of Sonny's heart was screaming, '_Tell me that you love me' _and Matt _had_ to. There was nothing more he could do. He refused to let Sonny down. He couldn't disappoint Sonny now. He couldn't do that. He wouldn't. He wouldn't be the one to hurt Sonny any worse than he already had.

"I love you, Sonny." Matt choked out. It wasn't so much of a lie. But somehow, Matt knew the words were wrong. He knew Sonny didn't love him back, either way. Sonny was incapable of love; he just wanted to fill the void torn open by his old girlfriend. Sonny was only fooling himself.

Sonny would say the words over and over, even now as he whispered to Matt, but they both knew that inside Sonny was hollow and probably, maybe always would be. Matt knew he should stop now, leave Sonny alone within these safe, secure white walls. He knew he should take it all back, and just let go.

It would be for the best.

But Matt knew he didn't have the guts to hurt Sonny. Not after everything, not now. Not after Sonny just found out what had really happened. Not now, when Sonny needed Matt the most.

For now, Matt would pretend it was alright and kiss Sonny back, whisper promises that were really lies, and tell him how much he meant.

That part wasn't a lie. Maybe in the end, that would be the death of the both of them; how much Matt loved Sonny regardless of the inevitable ending of this story.

Matt wondered if Sonny knew that.

He was so vulnerable now. His world was crashing down. Sonny was still so young. He deserved better. But it was too late now, Matt thought, surrounded by unforgiving white walls and sterile air. He wanted to save Sonny.

Matt wondered when Sonny would find out the whole truth.


	5. You Needed Time and Space

"Sonny… wait." Matt spoke carefully, slowly, pulling away from Sonny gently to show that he didn't intend to _hurt _Sonny. But oh, God… obviously, both of them would get hurt in this mess. Matt tried not to look too grim.

Sonny obediently stood, biting his lip, waiting for further instruction.

And it hurt Matt even worse, because now he could see the adorable little thing, just standing there, so blind and lost and maybe even _crazy. _How could he do it, now?

Sonny gave Matt the tiniest little smile, the closest thing to a 'smile' that had touched Sonny's lips for the past six months. And Matt knew that. He swallowed, forcing a small smile back for the smaller boy. It wasn't that he didn't love Sonny. Of course he loved Sonny.

But it just… wouldn't work out like that. It wasn't _okay _for Sonny to be falling in love with Matt. Matt couldn't let that happen; he'd tried hard this time to confuse Sonny, with the nightmares, with the unanswered questions, maybe even simple little lies. But still, _still, _Sonny fell even harder.

There was clearly something horribly wrong with the younger boy if he would continue to love someone who left him in horrible places, who _abandoned him _more than once, who left all of his questions unanswered.

But then again, Sonny still loved Katherine to pieces, despite everything. He loved easily, but he did not get over that same love so simply.

"I'm sorry." Sonny whispered, shrinking back, looking even _smaller. _And, _Oh, God, _Matt thought, _After another month of this hell, he's only going to get __**smaller. **__They're going to suck the life right out of him. _

Matt tried to hide his eyes in his hair and the shadows.

The only thing was, these rooms had no shadows; they were all white. Shadows could only fuel the imaginations of these unstable people.

"Matt?" Sonny asked softly, not coming any closer, but pulling down his sleeves over his hands and nervously brushing his hair out of his eyes.

So young.

So innocent.

"It's okay, Sonny." Matt forced himself to say, and even smile a little. Sonny didn't smile back. He wasn't stupid, after all, and he knew when something wasn't right.

"What is it?"

"It's just… I… can't let you get hurt, Sonny."

"You keep saying that. I don't _want _to hear that. I don't care, Matt. I'd rather die than lose… than lose it again." Sonny finished softly.

And they both knew that he didn't mean losing a physical person; he meant losing _himself. _Matt knew that if Sonny lost someone all over again, the poor little thing would relapse, would completely lose everything again.

Then he would never, never get out.

And Matt needed Sonny to leave, to get the hell out of this place and get as far away from it as possible. And never look back.

That was what needed to happen.

Instead, now, Matt was taking Sonny in his arms again and Sonny was crying and shaking and now _what the hell _was supposed to happen? Instead, Matt promised him it would be alright, and Sonny sobbed and clutched at Matt.

And that was it.

Matt couldn't let him go. And he would always be sorry for what happened next.

Matt left Sonny's room just a few minutes later.

Sonny forgot to look and see how Matt even got in and out of his room, but by then he was collapsing in his bed again and he couldn't even see straight, he was too tired.

He was sick of being too exhausted to do anything.

Maybe Matt would've stayed if Sonny could have put up more of a convincing fight, maybe worn a more convincing I'm-perfectly-fine face. Maybe then Sonny wouldn't have to be alone.

_Alone. _

Sonny wondered what day it was. It was probably winter by now. He remembered faintly that his _birthday _was in the winter. Did he already miss his birthday? Did he care anymore?

Twenty years old. And what did he have to show for it? He looked at his arms, forcing himself to keep his eyes open until they filled with tears.

Sonny traced the scars on his wrists, to the point where he felt certain at least one or two of them were bleeding again, and then he just cried. He cried because he knew that now it was too late for anything. It was too late to crawl back to Katherine, or even to someone like Travis.

At the point Sonny was at, he would even take Travis. The one time, as far as Sonny could remember, just once, when Travis had kissed him, it hadn't been so bad.

Sonny was always viewed as the most innocent in the group; it didn't matter what 'group' he was included in. But still, as much as he was treated as an innocent, he was taken advantage of. He never minded much. He was rarely sober enough to mind at all.

There were probably kisses he didn't even _remember. _But Travis was hard to forget.

He closed his eyes, hugging himself with bleeding arms, and tried to imagine how it felt.

Travis always, _always _smelled like cigarettes and faintly of liquor and something else, something slightly more suspicious. And Travis wasn't the best person in the world, not by any stretch or angle, but for Sonny, for now, he would do just fine.

It was one time, only once- maybe a year ago, one of those days when Katherine was missing in action, and Travis picked Sonny up and they were driving and maybe the car was stopped by then, but Sonny wasn't sure anymore.

And Travis just leaned over and kissed Sonny, roughly, fingers in his hair, for no reason, maybe. Sonny didn't remember the conversation before the kiss. He didn't remember if he kissed back, or if he liked it, or even liked Travis enough to tolerate it.

He remembered the taste, though.

Sonny shuddered, wishing the room was dark so he could just disappear in the shadows and remind himself how much he was _really worth_ to everyone.

But then Sonny remembered. He was worth more than one kiss, more than sharing a bottle of something on one forgettable night, to one person. Matt cared more about him than that. Didn't he? Sonny tried to remember when Matt had first shown interest in him.

He couldn't, though. Maybe that first day. Maybe when he'd first kissed Sonny, maybe when they sat together and talked.

Or maybe Matt just fell for Sonny in the middle somewhere.

Sonny could pretend that this was his life, outside of these white walls, with Matt somewhere happy.

Somewhere _sunny. _

That was when everything shattered, from the inside. As if a bomb was set off inside a glass house.

To Matt, it would become the end of himself. What was he without the one thing he cared most about? How many more had actually come _before Sonny _that he'd tried hard, so, so hard to really love?

He really had tried. There was the one, the taller, thin, strange one, yet he'd been completely perfect in every way, and his past was brutal but not worse than the first. And Matt tried. Hard.

But with so many rules and boundaries, how much love could he show?

And yet this little, sad boy was the one that toyed with Matt's heart to the point of breaking? This was the one that made everything come undone? The boy that walked in with bleeding wrists and tear filled eyes and the unmistakable look of betrayal and hurt?

Yes, it seemed.

Sonny was the one. The one that would ruin everything.

There were guards that looked after Matt and made sure the rules were followed and that everything remained balanced.

The object of everything was: fix someone that was broken as badly as you broke _him. _

Now Matt knew that _they _would be very, very upset. He knew the rules; he'd always followed the rules. Yet the second he saw Sonny, he knew he would throw every rule out the window for a chance to show this boy real love.

And he had.

Rule number one: don't converse with them. Number two: don't you _dare _touch them. If you kiss them, you've destroyed both of your souls. Number three: don't harbor feelings. Number four: don't tell them about us. And number five: you have one hundred days. After the hundredth day, we take you away and erase their memory.

Matt had already broken three of the four biggest rules. But he refused to tell Sonny the truth. Sonny would think that Matt only had his feelings for the littler boy because of the situation. Sonny would think Matt was forced into all of it. But that… wasn't true.

Matt's feelings were entirely his own, and they were a crime and a sin all in one.

Matt would do anything to protect Sonny from the people that threatened Matt and his very existence. Matt knew it wouldn't be long before they decided to put a tighter leash on Matt and what he could and couldn't do.

Some people would say that the ones who stood over Matt were angels in the simplest form, sent to try and teach Matt his lesson. But Matt felt like it was hell instead.

Matt was terrified.

What if they took away everything? Everything. What if, when they were done with him, Matt couldn't even _touch _Sonny?

And the days were counting down. It had been almost three months since the first time. That was eighty days. Matt wouldn't let it get that far. He had to stop now, before it was too late and things went too far with Sonny.

Or the time ran out.

There wasn't much to do after crying that day and the next night away. No nurses came to bother Sonny, except to hook him to an IV and to force feed him.

They were stupid to give him the access to his own bathroom in the first place. He threw the food back up and went back to lay miserable in the bed. He was done living now, all over again. Matt didn't come for three more days. Sonny grew more and more miserable.

He was moved to a shiny new room once they realized he was bulimic again, this time with no bathroom and the room was at least five degrees colder. He took note of all of this as he curled up underneath the covers again.

The nurse was prettier this time, Sonny noticed.

He didn't care for the pretty things anymore, though. Before he would've been excited; the prettier ones are stupider, nicer and easier to fool. He would've looked forward to scaring the hell out of the nice looking girl.

Now he just took careful note of her long black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. He wondered if she drove other patients crazy. Sonny didn't care about girls like her anymore.

In fact, he didn't care about girls at all. Sonny didn't care much for boys, though, either.

He only cared about Matt, and Matt's pale skin and Matt's cold hands and everything else. Sonny squeezed his eyes shut when the nurse put the needle in his wrist.

It hurt more than it would have if Sonny wouldn't have pulled off the scabs on his arms again. He didn't care anymore.

Two more days passed.

Sonny tried holding his breath, he tried just dropping dead, he searched the room for a remotely sharp object.

But these people were smarter than that, it seemed, and if they wanted Sonny alive, he'd have to stay alive, it looked like.

He gave up and tried to sleep, but without the drugs that made him tired, Sonny just stared at the insides of his eyelids until he gave up and went to the door to scream and beg again.

No one came to shut him up this time, so he cried and screamed for what must've been hours. His screaming only gave way to more and more silence, until the silence was deafening, like static in his ears.

He sat on the floor, sobbing.

Three more days of silence, static and sobs.

The nurse came every day. More drugs. More food. But little sleep.

Plenty of nightmares and fantasies to keep him busy, yet somewhere in the back of his mind, it bugged him to toy with these things. They seemed fragile now, and the images of Matt were fading from Sonny's eyes no matter how hard he tried.

Matt was blurring into a memory.

Two more days. Over a week. Sonny was in agony. Every inch of him ached, and his arms itched now, and he wished he would've just behaved and not rubbed at them so much.

They should've been healed. If only he wasn't so intent on proving his point.

If only.

Sonny let three and a half more days go by in the silence, and then he broke out in tears again. He'd never felt so small and weak and pathetic. Not even when he laid bleeding, broken on the floor where that _whore _Katherine had found him. Not even the times before then, when he knew that no one gave a damn where he was or what he did or if he was okay.

Not even when he was more alone than ever, in apartment 26, way upstairs, locked out from the world.

Now he was pathetic; he couldn't even gather the energy to scream and his throat hurt from crying, but all he could do was sob in a ball on the floor.

Two more days.

Silence.

Matt wandered the halls, unseen by most, sometimes silent, sometimes screaming.

Very few of these broken people could hear him. He wasn't _real, _after all. He was basically a figment of Sonny's imagination now.

He wanted to go back to Sonny, to breathe in Sonny's warmth and make more promises to fix what he'd already done to Sonny.

But now… he wasn't so sure he could even go back. He wasn't sure if he was trapped in this hallway or not.

Matt felt a searing pain on what should've been his skin, every time he tried to enter a room. Her counted down the days, all the while counting them _up. _Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, and now ninety days.

Ten more days until it was all over.

He began to cry, and then at a point he realized that he _could cry _and it seemed beautiful and tragic and sadistic all at the same exact time. There were so many things Matt simply couldn't do. So many ordinary, important little things.

Matt wasn't even sure what he was anymore.

He was not human.

He wasn't some kind of ghost; he'd never died in the first place. Maybe he was the remnants of himself, of what he used to be. He hadn't died, but maybe he'd transformed.

Into something cold, and something hardly real at all. Something dangerous.

He wondered how many days had actually passed. He felt tired, but all he could seem to do was pace that same white hallway, day and night, and sob because Sonny was all alone in this place now. And so was Matt.

He knew the ones who guarded him would come for him soon. Hopefully they would put him out of his misery. Maybe he couldn't even die; maybe they would just lock him up forever.

Maybe he wouldn't get the sweet release of death.

But after everything, he was glad he loved Sonny. If he deserved to be punished for loving someone who deserved love, then that was that, and Matt wouldn't leave Sonny without an explanation.

He walked down the hallway and turned to the left. His skin broke out in fiery pain.

He stepped through the doorway anyways, holding his breath and hoping for all he was worth that the pain would just end. Now he stood inside of the room, biting his lip until he tasted blood as the pain slowly dimmed.

And _there it was. _The very thing that was tearing him apart, that was taking him to pieces. The thing that was everything, but would also end everything.

Sonny Moore.

Matt came back.

He was just standing there, in the doorway, looking terrified and pained.

Sonny didn't _want _to rush over to him, to take him in his arms and comfort him and ask if he was okay, and Sonny didn't intend to give up so easily.

He felt betrayed, he felt abandoned.

But when he looked at Matt, all he felt was relief because no matter how many long, horrible days had passed him by, as long as Matt was here now, it would be okay. Sonny forgave him in less than a second. He was just so happy that Matt came back at all.

"Sonny." Matt choked out, clutching onto the smaller boy, sobbing.

Nothing else mattered now; Matt didn't _care _what he was anymore. As long as he was here, now, with Sonny, and as long as he was real to Sonny. That was all that mattered.

As long as Sonny could see him and feel him and touch him. As long as Sonny could believe in something, Matt was real enough.

"What are you?" Sonny whispered, crying. "_What_ are you, Matt?" He held onto Matt tightly, whispering the question over and over, but Matt was suddenly crying too hard to answer. And even then, he had nothing to say.

He didn't even know the answer anymore.

"Sonny, I love you. I love you more than anything." Matt told him. "But I can't answer that right now."

"Why do you disappear, Matt?" Sonny pulled back a little bit to look up at Matt, his face streaked with tears, those same dark eyes capturing Matt. "Why are you so much like a ghost? If you're real at all, why don't you stay with me?"

"Sonny… I can't. I can't stay in one place. It's just… it hurts me too much." The word 'ghost' shook Matt more than it should have. He'd never thought of himself as a ghost or anything similar to one. But maybe that made more sense?

"Why are you so cold?"

"I don't know." Matt whispered softly. "I don't know, Sonny."

"I'm scared, Matt." Sonny suddenly said.

"Of… of me?"

"No. I'm scared of whatever's scaring you."

Matt hadn't given Sonny much credit, not to his intelligence, anyways. Matt didn't think he was stupid, but Sonny's innocence often made him seem unaware. But Sonny wasn't so naïve after all, and he was smart enough to realize that Matt was only afraid.

"I won't let them hurt you, Sonny. I promise you that."

"But I need to know, Matt. You have to tell me what's going on."

"I don't know, Sonny." Matt repeated weakly. And for someone in a mental hospital, for someone so unhinged, Sonny seemed held together and collected. To the point that Matt felt pressured and trapped in.

"Tell me." Sonny whispered again. Matt didn't have the guts to look right into those sad, dark eyes and tell him no again.

"I'm trapped in this place."

"Why?"

"There are people that are keeping me here. I'm being…punished."

"What did you _do?" _

"I… I'm here and I have to fix someone. That's why _I'm here. _There's plenty of broken people. I hurt someone a long time ago. And now I am paying for that."

"What are you talking about?"

"They wanted me to help someone else. You weren't on the list. But I love you, Sonny." Matt told him. He wanted Sonny to just accept that fact, and to forget about everything else. To just understand that the way Matt loved him, nothing could change and nothing else mattered.

"What did you do that was so bad? And I don't see how they can keep you here. How can they control you?" Matt thought hard about the truth. There was no real way to explain himself. He would have to just… say it.

"I'm not _real_, Sonny."

"I know." Sonny replied carefully. "I know."

"What?"

"I know that you're not real. But I also know that I didn't make you up." Sonny explained. "That's real enough, Matt." Sonny placed his palm against Matt's cheek. Ice cold.

But solid. He felt solid.

"No. Someone else made me up, Sonny. I'm _not real._" Not anymore, Matt thought to himself. At some point he was solid, flesh and blood, at least human enough to mess up everything like he had.

Matt always broke fragile things.

"I don't care, Matt. This is real enough." Sonny repeated, attempting to kiss Matt. Matt moved away. Sonny dropped his hands and stepped back. "You're real to me, Matt. I'm not crazy. You're real."

"You've said it yourself. There are things that just don't make any sense. And this is why. Someone made me. Someone created me. I'm only in your head, Sonny. I'm just an old story."

"No. I'm not even smart enough to make up something like you."

"Sonny, look at me."

"No. No, I don't want to. You're lying to me. Matt. Why are you lying to me?"

"_For once I am telling you the truth._" Sonny looked up to meet Matt's eyes. He carefully looked at Matt's pale, perfect, skin, his strange perfection. He wasn't ordinary. But he was real.

"Kiss me, Matt. Prove to me that you're just a figment of my imagination. Because you can't kiss a daydream. And I've kissed you enough to know that." Sonny said bravely. "Please."

"I can't do that. It's hurting you already."

"You don't know what is hurting me, Matt. You don't know a damn thing about anything that's happening to me right now because _you're never here anymore._"

"I do know. The bulimia is back. It's worse. You can't eat anything at all anymore. You're bleeding right now. The nurses don't understand. They speak to you a lot. You were offered therapy but you refused. And you can't stay awake for five minutes. I _know._"

"Then why don't I ever get to see you? Why don't you try and fix what you've done? I'm so happy with you, Matt. The only reason I'm hurting is because you keep leaving me."

Matt thought about it for a second. He thought more about himself than anything.

What a cruel joke it was, how real Matt seemed when he was only a small leftover piece of himself lingering in this hospital with only one purpose.

That wasn't real or human at all.

"How did those people see you then? When they came in and hurt both of us. Do you remember that? They stuck a needle in your arm. You must be real enough for that." Sonny asked. He vividly remembered being held down my three nurses, watching Matt go limp and be taken away.

"That didn't happen." Matt shook his head. "It's an idea I put in your head."

"But… but why?"

"To confuse you. I had to put a lot of things into your head because they made me. I put the nightmares in your head, too, Sonny."

"The nightmares." Sonny whispered, shutting his eyes for a moment. He remembered those dreams more than he remembered anything. But they weren't real either.

"And I'm so, so sorry. I never wanted to have to lie to you like that, Sonny, but they made me do it." Matt whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault if they own you like that," Sonny told him.

"Sonny, I have ten more days." Matt admitted. Sonny at least deserved to know what would become of them.

"What?"

"In ten days, I'll disappear. For a really long time. And if I stay here with you any longer, _so will you. _I'll drag you down with me."

"What are you saying?"

"It's all over in ten more days, Sonny."

"Over?"

"I die in ten days." Matt said. "Essentially, I fade from existence, because I failed yet again. They get to rebuild me later. But it's _over, _Sonny, in ten days. They take me away."

The look on Sonny's face was terrible. Shock, disbelief, then the pain. He looked as if someone had inflicted severe, unimaginable physical pain on him.

Then, without saying a word, without asking another question, Sonny wrapped his arms around Matt and hugged him tightly. Matt felt _warmth _for the first time in three years, all the way down to his fingertips.

"It's gonna be alright, Matt. I need you to know that it will be okay. I won't leave you."

Matt knew that more than anything, he was scared to be alone again.

Sonny pulled Matt to the cold bed and there they laid together for what could've been forever. The warmth faded from Matt, but as the cold returned to him it felt less painful.

"I promise, Matt."

It only took Matt a few more seconds to register Sonny's words in the darkness of the room, in the stolen, hazardous moment. Sonny promised to stay with him to the very end.

Well, _yes, _Matt had taken advantage of him yet again. But it would be the last chance that he'd get. Now, Matt just laid there beside Sonny, unable to breathe or speak or move.

They would die like this.

Sonny didn't know it yet, but since that very first time, Matt knew that kisses and things like this would only become more dangerous. It was the death of Matt himself; he felt numb everywhere, except his hand where Sonny held it in his own, and except his cheek where Sonny kissed him lightly.

It was day ninety eight. _Two more days. _But from the looks of it, _they _didn't care about the rules at all anymore. They were taking Matt away _now. _

Everything was slowly fading out, growing darker right before Matt's eyes. He blinked, willing the world to grow brighter and sharper again. It only blurred more.

This was it.

Matt had felt this same swimming feeling only once before, but it wasn't something you easily forgot about. It had stayed with him, the haunting feeling, for three years now. And since then he'd sworn to never be that way again.

But here he was, blurring from reality itself, disappearing in Sonny's arms.

And the most tragic part was that Sonny found that he was finally out of tears.


	6. The Shit That is Your Past

Together the two of them sat on the floor in the corner of Sonny's dark room, the only light coming in from underneath the door from the hallway.

Matt was losing his grip on himself; _they _were taking him away now for breaking all the rules.

"Sonny, I just need you to do just one thing for me," Matt tried to keep the panic out of his voice and he took Sonny's face in his shaking, fading hands.

_Oh god, this is really it. After everything, I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for loving him. _Matt thought. He couldn't feel Sonny's hands frantically racing over his hands and his face. He tried not to let Sonny know that.

Matt needed him to see that after everything, he really had loved Sonny.

Sonny nodded, taking one of Matt's palms and frantically kissing his hand.

"Anything. Anything." Sonny whispered over and over, growing panicked as Matt's hands grew colder and colder. Soon, they began to bite at Sonny's own skin, but he didn't say anything, just held onto them tightly and watched Matt become so pale he looked blue.

_Blue, _Sonny thought. _His skin is turning blue. _The thought scared him; Matt looked more and more ill. Sonny didn't even fully understand what was happening. _Don't die. _He thought faintly, weakly. He was scared to say the words.

"_Don't forget me." _Matt pleaded, tears in his eyes.

His eyes, which were now fading just like the rest of him; Sonny swore he could see _right through _Matt to the other side of the room. Sonny didn't know how he was supposed to feel- should he cry now? Why couldn't he cry?

Sonny pushed his mouth to Matt's, only to feel stingingly cold air there instead.

It felt violent and unfair that Matt couldn't even kiss him now. Still, Sonny desperately clung onto Matt's frigid, barely solid body, still tried to hold his hands.

Sonny started to panic, and then was taken over by a severe pain in the center of his chest. He thought he was _dying. _He couldn't breathe. The thought occurred to him: _What am I without you? And do I __**want **__to be anything at all? _

"Matt. You can't leave me." Sonny gasped, and for once he wished he could find his tears. His eyes were stinging and his hands were shaking and he felt cold all over, but no tears. He looked up at Matt.

It was over.

"I'm not leaving you, Sonny." Matt lied again. But in a way… Matt prayed that he _wouldn't _be leaving Sonny alone at all. He prayed that Sonny had enough imagination to dream Matt up again. Did it even work like that? Hell, he didn't even know.

He didn't know the rules of this existence. This Hell.

All he knew was that the cold was returning, settling into his bones, and there were no amounts of kisses that Sonny placed on Matt's hands that could warm them again. He tried kissing Sonny again. Didn't he deserve one last kiss from the only thing he'd ever cared for, in life or this death?

All he knew was that the _one thing _he'd loved and cared for the _right way _was being ripped from his hands. _I guess that's what I get. Maybe this is the real lesson. _

But, damn it- Matt loved him too much. Maybe _that _was the real lesson. To show him how it felt to have someone you really care for taken away. The same way Matt took himself away so many years before…

_I'm so sorry now. Why can't you just see that I'm sorry? _Matt thought, sending up his silent pleas to the invisible beings tearing him away.

Matt grew frantic, holding onto Sonny, whispering to him.

"Sonny. I love you." Matt tried to reach for him, but he was too far gone now. "Remember me." He tried to say, but he wasn't even sure if Sonny could hear him anymore.

Sonny looked right through him now. He could only see his greenish eyes piercing the air around them; the only proof that Matt was existent at all.

And then, just like that, he was _gone. _And as much as Sonny hoped the story could've had a beautiful end, that was it.

And it had turned out to be a darker story after all.

Sonny sat alone on the cold, unforgiving floor of his hospital room.

And cried.


End file.
